The White Sketchbook
by californiatart
Summary: WWII AU. In order to avoid the dreadful temptations in his heart, Lovino had decided to travel to Rome to escape the imprisonment of emotions for his Spanish step-brother. However, things didn't come as expected as he had shielded himself of what is 'right' and what is 'wrong'.
1. Cross Hatching

_**Chapter 1**_:

Cross Hatching

* * *

August 15th, 1939.

"_Dear Lovino, _

_I'm scared. Recently, there are a lot of people being arrested by the German soldiers, __The __Schutzstaffel, or The NSDAP, or The Allgemeine SS; I don't know, German people had too many names for the same thing. Anyway, it's the beginning of August here and it is scorching hot, I can't even leave home for more than ten minutes! I cannot wait for September to come soon__. Back to the first topic, Grandpa Roma had insisted that we should offer housing to some of these runaways because it is the right thing to do, not as Italians, but as human beings. I can understand where his thinking came from, but, somewhere in my heart, there are fears, fear of what is going to happen tomorrow. I mean, Grandpa Roma is getting old; I can see wrinkles on his face, and I'm just a thirteen-year old boy whom hasn't gone through puberty yet. How is mom? I bet she's really happy being with Mister Carriedo. I really miss her… Nevertheless, I'm glad that you're not in Rome with me and grandpa because there are a lot of frightening German soldiers prowling and lurking around here lately._

_Love, Feliciano._

_P.S.: Oh and, have Antonio gotten back from the army? I'm glad that I'm not a soldier like him because I don't want other people to read my letters and censor them with huge chunks of black blocks."_

.

A pair of gloomy brown eyes fluttered open. These eyes happen to belonged to a young boy being awakened from last late night's slumber with the yellow sunbeam against his face. He parts the cover sheet on his body to the side, gotten up from the tender quilt beneath him, yawn softly, and tirelessly stretched his arms to their limit. He then gave a quiet, alone invocation to himself as he stared out the windows and in circles of his empty room. Around the boy are portraits of himself, his mom, his step-father, and his step-brother. The one picture next to him is when his step-brother is ten, and he, himself, is four, the time when they first met as brothers. Back then, their newly-wed parents decided to have them in the same room to get used to one another, and, that is how the background behind the picture had gotten its place. After his little morning break, he then unwinds himself away from the bed, untiringly. The boy did his usual morning routine with a bored expression, dressed himself in a pair of trouser and dress shirt, grab his books and carrier bag, and then head off to downstairs for school.

"Bye, mom, dad," He parted, without much of a presence.

"Good bye, Lovino, did you bring your gas mask?" Asked a soft, feminine voice.

"Yes, mother." The young boy reacted. Once he had gotten his bicycle out of the storage garage, he then, paddle the petals away without much interest to his bland, little school. Once he had arrived at the school's gate, he would go to his classes and listened to the lectures and gossips from classmates about the war, participated in a gas drill, had a small lunch break by himself, and then off to his house once more on his bike. He had made sure that every single transient day is in the same pattern for these passing four years. Before_ him_. Before nonsense have overtaken his life. Before reason had left his mind and body. The boy just wanted to be like everybody else, a normal fifteen years old teenager that he is.

When the young boy return back at the front porch to his home, it is already afternoon, evening even, he couldn't wait to rush back to his own room and isolated himself from the dull light outside. Using his personal key, he unlocks and turns the handle noiselessly, opened the door quietly, and hurries himself to his room upstairs silently. With a careful pull, his remote room is now within sight. He can smell his own scent, he can see his clothes scattered in circles, he can spot his grey paintings on the walls; this is his room.

Closing the door behind him with a soft sound, the young boy flips his attention to the desk upfront next to a wide window. He pulls the wooden chair, which is tucked neatly into the shadow, outward, into the sunset's light cascading from the window. The boy sat himself down and then sweeps the drawer to his left wide exposed to his eyes. From within the opened drawer is a white sketchbook; inside it are drawings in whites, greys, and blacks, but never in lively vibrant colors. It is sort of a reflection to his dreary, wearisome, and unexciting life, and he had loved it. After flipping through his sketchbook and then into a blank canvas, he picks up a pencil and begins to fill in the page in whites, greys, and blacks, just like every other day in his life. He was in delight as his pencil is making a cross-hatching form on his next art piece, his own interpretation of the sky behind the window next to him. White here. Grey there. Black here.

Usually, around his stilled background, within the confinement inside his own room, are painted in grey silent. However, the outside world today, was a bit noisier than usual. From the bottom floor underneath his feet, the front door's bell rings, barely auditable, but it manage to breaks off his concentration on his art.

The young boy could hear his room's door swing opened loudly from behind him, it is a woman, the woman is almost a mirrored image of the boy on sitting on the chair, she exclaims to him, "Lovino! Come with me downstairs, Antonio is home!"

There is a clash of unharmonious colors inside Lovino's head when he heard those words from his mother and that particular name… The images of them, alone, in this room together gave life into the white canvas inside his mind. Of their innocence kisses on the forehead, cheeks, nose, then, a full blown heated lip pressed against lips. Lovino felt dizzy, but he succeeds to gush out, "Alright, mom, I'll be down shortly."

"Hurry!" She insisted and then left to greet their unexpected guest.

Lovino trembled. His right hand that holds the pencil shillyshallied back and forth with scared timid. He begins putting away his white sketchbook back into the drawer, got up and pushes the chair back inside the hollow spade beneath his desk. The distant between his desk and door had somehow felt like he had been walking for miles to reach. Upon approaching the stair to the bottom floor, Lovino could hear noises, so loud, so boastful, and so contented. His right hand came to a rest point on top of his heart as he walked down the ever so long stair's steps.

"… I can't believe it has been four years!" A male's voice cried.

"… You're twenty-one years old now, Antonio! You grew up to be such a fine young man!" A woman's voice called.

Lovino peaked his head down, behind the walls that cover midway down the stair… there it is; in fresh and in person, is his step-brother's figure behind the closed front door. He had returned from the Civil War. Once he had ridden himself of the safe compartment of the staircase, Lovino treads over to his parents and older brother. "… Welcome home, Antonio." Lovino greeted quietly, trying to put on a brave face in front of his mother and step-father.

"Thank you… I'm home, father, mother," He smiled and kisses them both on their cheeks, and only a hand on his young step-brother's right shoulder. "… Lovino."

After their joyous reunion, the family had a small, quiet dinner together to catch up with their missed son in the war. Lovino's mother would make Italian pasta, lasagna, gnocchi, risotto, and Antonio's father made Madrilenian stew and churros, served with wine from Navalcarnero.

"I can't believe we are fighting our own people... I'm just glad that everything is over now." The father relieved while eating a mouth-full of the churros.

"Dad, let's not talk about the unpleasantness of war. My eyes had seen enough." Antonio appealed, he had looked appallingly tired.

"I had thought that you'll be home much later than this, Antonio." The mother tried to shifts to the next topic, abstractedly.

"Ah, yes, I just miss you all terribly despite the wounds on my body. Especially your beautiful smile, mother." The oldest son laughed.

"Oh, shush!" The mother blushed prettily. Lovino stayed in silent as he watched the family before him talking adoringly and laughing joyfully to each other.

Late evening finally came; there was a great disruption of the color black on the sky. The entire street of Madrid was shut down in darkness, as there where moderation of faded lights in each house after another. The Civil War in Spain is over, but there were reluctances of the aftermath of the conflict, of how it shall brought alongside the unknowns to living civilians in town.

Antonio followed Lovino to their shared room upstairs. Lovino's heart was pounding so recklessly, so briskly, so brusquely as each step of the stair was being walked over by their shadows. Once they had both reach their room, Lovino's hands trembles intolerably as he turned the doorknob to open. When the door is undid, Lovino move to stand aside against the wooden frame for his older brother.

"Come in," He said in a small voice at his Spanish step-brother.

Antonio smiled softly and then proceeds to pace inside with light footsteps. "Alright."

The secluded, distant, reserved room is now filled with Antonio's intruding presence. There is a disturbance of a green color inside of Lovino's monotonous colored compartment. Like a plant has finally grown its bub in such a long time.

When Lovino had done closing the smallest crevice between the door and everything else outside, he had felt something pressed delicately against his body. It was the man standing behind the front door just a few moments ago, it was his step-brother, it was Antonio. And, Antonio's hands are pinning Lovino's against the wall with a gentle force, _but_, he could felt the need, the urgency, the desperation as sloppy caresses are showered on his face. The kisses came from his red lips makes Lovino weak on his knees, his green eyes ignite a fire within him; his smooth auburn hair is like succulent silk wanting to be touched.

The young boy smoothly drives his older brother's warmth and lips away. "… We're both men and are brothers," Is the only thing he could utter at the moment of nervousness.

"Step-brothers." Antonio corrected him, taking in a breath of air in to calm his heated body.

Lovino closes his eyes for a second before opened them back. "I don't see the difference. We basically lived our whole life together," He argued, darting his brown eyes to the side, toward the window now slowly bringing the stars and moon alive outside.

The older brother tilt his face down, his long bangs was able to cover his green eyes. "… I couldn't see you as my brother no matter how hard I try. And, I believed, you felt the same way, too. These past four years simply heightened my longing for… for you. Even now, my heart felt like it could erupt in pure bliss."

Lovino bites his lips deceitfully and gritted through his teeth, "You're lying to yourself." His heart skips a beat at his cold, uninviting, indifferent words.

"Have I ever lied to you before, Lovino?" Antonio questioned him, inaudibly, trying to make eye-contact with his younger brother.

"Stop. Please." Lovino pleaded, avoiding any sort of connection between them. "Our parents are wide awake outside of these thin walls."

"Right now, all I could think of is to kiss you, hold you, and touch you." Antonio specified sensitively, finally catches Lovino's eyes and looked deep into the brown pupils. "… I miss you, Lovino."

"No." The younger brother tried to denied, afraid that Antonio could heard and read through his untrustworthy voice. "We… I can't do this."

"Perhaps you have gotten yourself a lover?" The taller man intrude, jealousy and suspicion is thick in his discreet, hoarse voice.

_"… No..."_ Lovino denied, looking down at their feet in uncertainty, breaking of their only contact through their interwoven eyes with one another.

"Then, why? Tell me." Antonio prodded, his green eyes hardened and intensified by the darkness around them.

"Because…" Lovino faltered, he couldn't think of a reason why. He stay silent for a long, long time because quietness had always brought comfort and ease to him for these past four years until now. Antonio, on the other hand, had understood him like his favorite book, and, decided to rest for that late evening before nighttime.

The step-brother loses hope and gave up, walking away from Lovino with a dejected, disappointed face. After that chapter, Antonio undresses himself out of his clothes and into his night robe, flew onto the bed next to Lovino's and sleeps away, soundlessly. It is almost as if nothing had happened or bothered his calm, mild attitude.

Lovino follow-suit after his older brother. He uncloaks himself out of his trouser and dress shirt, and into the soft, velvety night robe and then situated himself on his own bed.

A long, tedious hour has passed between them; Lovino's eyes are wide with awakening, unable to close its own lids into unconsciousness against the dark night before him. He nibbles his lips, pulling the blanket closer to his body. Frightful thoughts slowly crawling back to his mind, he was reminded of what happened before Antonio had went to the war. Of sleepless, distrust filled reason, blinded of what are the right things or wrong things, of being petrified of tomorrow's dark night alone with his step-brother.

Lovino shouldn't be here, he doesn't belong to this family, he couldn't handle the color-filled shades in rainbows poured on his blank canvas. He should be ridden of himself far away from here, he should be running away from these strange colors overflowing into his dull, tedious life… _far away from his step-brother, Antonio._

That night, that exact night, Lovino could not sleep at all because of the deafening commotion in his troubled, bourgeoning, beating heart.

.

August 16, 1939.

_"Dear Feliciano,_

_ Don't be scared because fear can make you lose reasons and alters your actions, you airhead brother… I miss you and Grandpa Roma, too. Whatever you and grandpa decided what to do with life is fine, but, don't forget of the effect it will have on the people around you. Life in Madrid is pretty normal despite the war; schools, jobs, factories, families, everything is basically the same except civilians have to be careful when walking outside and be mindful of the rations given to them. Our family is pretty well-off despite the war at hand, though, it is all thanks to step-father's._

_Sincerely, Lovino._

_P.S.: No, Antonio has not gotten back from the army yet. Then again, somehow, I could feel that he'll return home, I don't know when, but soon, very soon."_

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: Hello friends! This is the third installment of my WWII "Book Series", I hope you like it! This is a completely separate story, so you don't have to read the other two if you don't want to. :)


	2. Blind Contouring

_**Chapter 2**_:

Blind Contouring

* * *

September 10, 1939.

"_Dearest Lovino,_

_I'm sad. When I woke up to yesterday's morning, dad did his usual vanishing like a magician; only, this time, he had never returned from his disappearing act. Initially, it had felt like watching a blown bubble; waiting for it to be exploded. I was miserable the whole day, but… right now, you are probably going to say something like, "come live with me and mom, Feliciano." No thank you, Lovino, I'm happy that you cared about me that much but I like living with Grandpa Roma here in Rome. It felt good helping people with grandpa and the girls here are so amazingly dazzling. Spanish girls are too clingy for my taste. Anyhow, how are you, Lovino? I heard the Civil War is finally over in Spain, is Antonio home? How is he? Did you hear about the battle last week? Apparently, Germany and Slovakia entered Poland on a ruse that Poland had first flung a surprised dose on one of German's terrain. Italy wanted a peace negotiation between the lands, which Germany and France approve, but Britain strike down to the pact… So everybody; Great Britain, France, New Zealand, South Africa, Australia, and Canada, ended up affirming war on Germany. How did that happened? I'm so confused. With all of these struggling's and conflictions emitted all over Europe for no reason… I'm just glad that Spain is not on the list and Italy's somewhat peaceful because I don't want to fight my own brother._

_Your Dearly Brother, Feliciano."_

.

A duet of brown eyes crack opened faintly. Lovino takes in a breath of air to bring himself from the dream he had last night to his world. He parts the blanket over his body to the side, only, to risen up from the bed; sleep still had a hold on him. _This room_. Somehow, it felt so warm with life. His eyes were white and cloudy, unable to make judgments as his perception was distorted by the lack of sleep hours. The boy turned over, and surely enough, his dream is before him. Lovino had dreamt of his step-brother, Antonio, returning from the Civil War, had a quiet dinner with the family, of his own heart twisted in different colors… of their lips blending into one another… And surely enough, the bed next to Lovino is no longer isolated, no longer remote, no longer empty. His step-brother's back was against him, eyes looking out the window, which is coated in different hues of sunlit pigments by the day's life. Now that it was morning daubed in blues, now that a small drop of yellow begins to smeared over the late night's blossom, now that greens, oranges, and reds, mixed into the whites, greys, and blacks; Lovino could see all of the purple wounds and pink scars contouring all over Antonio's exposed back.

"These open wounds… They're ugly aren't they?" The step-brother deliberated out loud, his eyes still on the window before him.

"No." Lovino countered softly, he was fully awake at this point. "The colors on your body had brought peace to this land."

Antonio laughs. "That sounds really cliché, Lovino."

"It's true. We get to live another day because of rash people like you..." Lovino asserted with cheeks so pink and brown eyes on his lap, a bit embarrass to give a genuine gratuitous acknowledgment to his step-brother.

"You are most welcomed." Antonio got up and twisted his footsteps toward his young step-brother's bed. His hands repose on either side of Lovino, hovers his own body over his young brother, green eyes into brown ones. "You know, thoughtless things may escape your lips, but I know that you're too cautious, terrified even, to say how you actually felt. I lived my whole life with you after all." He leered knowingly. "You're too cute, Little Lovino."

"Stop saying weird things. What do you know about me?" Lovino dive his eyes toward the window, denying what his step-brother's indications about his character."… And, you are a bit too close, Antonio."

Antonio's is just a breathe away, the distant between them felt like the tip end of a needle, his red lips darkened to ruby, his green eyes eased to emerald, his auburn hair lightened to golden. Lovino's body felt like boiling white water, distressed in crimson heat all over, and face was scarlet pink at this exact moment. _Go away._

"W-what are you doing?" Lovino uttered timidly, his brown eyes to the ground, face knotted in discomfort. There was a hand guarding on his heart to create some sort of space between them. _"Stop…"_

Then, a feminine voice called out on the other side of the door, "Antonio, Lovino, breakfast!" The exaggerated colors around Lovino finally spun back to the usual whites, grays, and blacks. His step-brother's heat was away as he quietly dresses himself in a corner facing the window. Lovino got up from his bed and proceed to robed into his usual trouser and dress shirt for school. During breakfast, Antonio, mother, and father, chattered away about random things around the house.

Lovino, on the other hand, absentmindedly listen to the classic music in the radio, until there is an emergency broadcast cluttered over the peaceful tune, "Attention, attention, attention. Please lend me your ears, all civilians of Madrid, lend me your ears, my friends. As of yesterday's, there is a plague of attacks on Poland by German's aircrafts. My friends, please heed my words to be cautious when you are on the outside walls, as of today, we do not know what disastrous events and strange occurrences this new fight will bring. Because this is, after all, a man's war. Good luck, my friends, out and over." The radio the changed back to the classic music Lovino was listening to.

Mother cleared her throat and proposed up a random question, "So, Antonio, dear, have you find yourself a special girl?" Lovino stop chewing on the bread he had eaten and swallowed the lumpy crumbs hard, luckily for him, nobody eyes were on him.

The father agreed, looking attentively at his eldest son, "Yes. Have you, son?"

Antonio chuckles jokingly, "I'll try my best."

"So, you have?" Mother questioned still.

"Not telling," He teased.

After breakfast, Antonio offer to drop Lovino to school using the family's Hispano-Suiza, which he insisted on his end. Lovino had to put on a face, pretending life is still normal if Antonio returned from the war, pretending the incident from last night did not happened, pretending the colors his step sibling brings did not exists. In the end, Lovino accepted his offer and drove in the car with Antonio, his eyes, however, were either glued on his laps or the window. Despite the discreetness and the awkwardness between the two step-brothers, Lovino could not help but to hold in the livid beating inside his heart. _Ba-thump! Ba-thump! Ba-thump!_ The uneven beats were so loud like drums.

"… Did you bring your gas mask, Lovino?" The older man questioned, breaking his young brother out of his internal turmoil.

Lovino shrugged, not looking at him. "Umn, yes."

"You did not bring it with you this morning." Antonio probed, taking a side-way glance at Lovino.

"I forgot." Lovino repudiated. In actuality, he does not need it, he never wore it anyway.

"Don't worry; I already put it in your bag." The man said.

There was something in his voice that made Lovino slightly irate, his cheeks puffed and mouth pouted. "Antonio, you don't need to worry about me. I'm no longer a child. I know that we are in a war."

"Yes. I could tell that you have grown." The elder step-brother approved with a dazed expression, ignoring the later part. Lovino stayed quiet, he did not liked the way Antonio's tone sounds, he did not liked the way his eyes glittering in the sunlight, he did not liked the way he keep stealing side looks at him. What is so special about his self? About Lovino? About a boy who is young, rude, and Antonio's step-brother no less. Lovino was confused, he was about to ask what is wrong with his step-sibling, about to come up with reasons, about to lie. But, somehow, his voice never came to him. He was fearful, frightened of what Antonio will say, more importantly, he was scared of what he, himself, would say to his step-sibling.

The rest of the day in school, Lovino did not come in contact with another person; he stayed indifferent in the corners, he isolated himself from everybody, even the teachers. If anybody asks how he felt or why is he so distant, Lovino would remained silent and walked away or tell them off. He did not want anybody to know about his life, about his feelings, about his family… about his step-brother. At the end of school, early evening had come; Antonio is waiting by the gate for Lovino.

"How was school Lovino?" The elder brother enquired, walking side by side with his younger brother to their family's car.

"It was alright." Lovino answered flatly, hands in his trousers' pockets, not looking at Antonio.

The trip back to their house felt extravagantly long, the roads kept on twisting and curving, buildings standing tall and sky-high after buildings, the sky on the other side of the car's window had felt like it never touched the horizon. Lovino, like this morning, sat soundlessly in his seat, his brown eyes were detached and elsewhere.

Antonio was worried, he insisted on looking out for his step-sibling in the small junctions of his green eyes. Is there something wrong? Did something bad happen to Lovino at school? Or at home? Or was it Antonio's own fault for… for last night?

Antonio signed and begins to gather his thoughts and judgment of these passing years away from home. Away from mother and father. Away from Lovino. "The war ended on March 28th, just a few months ago." Antonio recollected calmly, his round eyes far out of reach and pitch-black in peacock green. "It was devastating, it felt like I was in a dream, it is so unreal, so bizarre, so inhuman; it was more like watching a fantasy coming to life in a book. I had an old friend siding with the republican and, I was told to shoot him, and I did, somehow, I do not know. President Franco wanted the republic to be imprisoned in a '_work camp'_ after their white flag was held up around Madrid's border. And, that was the last that I could see him, he was treated like he was some sort of animal in the far distant land before my eyes, like he was a firefly captured into a glass container. Lovino, it is petrifying to see all of my close companions and acquaintances killing each other within tanks and fire bullets like children playing with each other. And, do you know why I join the army?"

"I do not know." Lovino replied, absorbing in his brother's story of his leaving.

Antonio pulled the car to an isolated stop corner, and turned to Lovino. "I apology for startling you, but, I wanted you to listen to this, Lovino. I wished for father, mother, and you, Lovino, to be safe and be happy, even for just another day. You are probably too young to understand this, but, at that time, when I was just a seventeen years old boy, I wanted, of all the people in this world, I wanted you to always keep on being innocence and carefree... I am sorry if I did something I should not have."

Lovino eyes shifts down and head tilt toward his laps. "No, you did not do anything wrong, Antonio. It's just… this is happing so suddenly, so abruptly, so fast. I will be fine after a while, I promised you."

Anotonio smiled gently and squeeze his young brother shoulder, "Alright, we will talk more later. You are probably exhausted today, let us go home." He turned back to the wheel and steps on the gas petal, heading for their family's home. Once they had returned to the house, Antonio and Lovino join their parents for dinner together. After their meal, Antonio headed for the bath to bathe himself and Lovino headed upstairs quietly by his own with a distant expression.

Lovino seated his person down to the desk he always manages to find himself next to everyday, and, out from the drawer is his white sketchbook. Today, Lovino wanted to practice drawing using Blind Contouring. He sat on his chair for the longest of time, watching the late evening sky with great concentration, and begins to move his pencil. In light stokes, medium strokes, hard strokes, repeat. The time today had passed so delicately slow, especially with his step-brother around. Every looks Antonio gives, every spoken words, every gestures, had made Lovino weak on his knees and heartbeat pounding wildly. It was like, like… like, he is a school boy with his first love… Lovino's eyes hardened as his pencil moves with a bit more force to snap himself into concentrating on his art work. But, he just couldn't. The orange dusk sky reminds him of his step-brother's sun kissed skin, the green trees under reminds him of his emerald eyes, the red brick walls reminds him of his delicate lips. Lovino glanced down and was horrified of what he saw. It was a sketch of Antonio's face. He flips onto the next page, and it happened again. Pages after pages, after pages, after pages, the lines all looked too familiar to his step-brother's.

There is a sound coming from behind him. "Nice sketch, Lovino. You could be an artist!" Antonio's voice exclaimed, he was leaning over Lovino shoulder to see his wonderful artwork. Lovino could felt his hot breath on him, eyes on him, skin on him. He freaked out and feet flipped over to his chair to break off their contact. Lovino's breath was hitched as soon as he comes eye to eye with Antonio. From behind him, his older step-sibling wore nothing but a white towel hanged loosely around his hips for coverage. Antonio hair was dripping off blue dewdrops of water, skin still flustered from his bath, eyes dazed in relaxation. Lovino, couldn't pronounced a word as his cheeks were reddened crimson in embarrassment.

"P-please put on some clothes, Antonio!" Lovino screeched; his cracked voice was betraying him, deceiving him, misleading him. It felt hoarse and dry… and wanton.

"Eh?! But, I like the fresh air against my skin. I'm always like this, remember back then?" Antonio pouted; he didn't seem to notice his young brother's ache.

Lovino quickly got up from the chair and rushed over to the closet, only to run back with him some sleep clothes for his step-brother. "Hurry up; you will catch a cold or something."

"Alright…" Antonio signed, defeated.

At night, the older sibling slept on his bed, soundlessly and peacefully, as if naught troubled him one bit. Lovino is still sitting on his desk, staring down at his incomplete drawing before he was interrupted. He closes his sketchbook; he just couldn't finish his drawing. He signed softly. Of his heart discord in desires despite him talking himself out of his wanting. Of his animalistic craving. Of his yearning for… Antonio. Earlier, Lovino wanted to come even closer to him, to touch Antonio's blushing skin, to taste those enflamed red lips, to hold on to his emerald gaze, and…. And… Lovino couldn't have felt any more dirtier, filthier, grimier, to have such thoughts about his elder step-sibling. Lovino's mother needed this family more than anything, his step-father is the one that brought light to his life back in Rome, and Antonio was a kind and compassionate brother… And, that… Lovino is just an animal, a filthy mongrel that hungered after his thoughtful older brother. He got up from the chair once more and outfitted himself into his sleep garments. Lovino walked over to his bed and settled his own person in, inaudibly and noiselessly. Lovino let out the breath he had been holding in.

_Warm_. Lovino's body felt exceptionally warm. His heartbeat, distorted in an eccentric rhythm. He felt nervous, excited, enthusiastic, unease, nauseated, anxious. His stomach is flipped and turned upside down. He didn't like this feeling, this foreign sensation, this strange magnetism for his step-brother.

And then today, in the end, it was another restless night of sleep for Lovino.

.

September 11, 1939.

"_Dear Feliciano,_

… _I don't know what or how to react to what I've just read. Dad left? I'm not surprised at all. Just please take care of yourself, or at least, pretense like you know what are you doing. You know you can come to Madrid any time you wanted, right, you stupid little brother? I am fine. Antonio is home. He is also fine. Yes, I heard about the news, the rainbows of rumors are insane here. To be honest, I don't know how this whole war started, either. My advice to you, is to be careful at all times, because I know you and Grandpa Roma are like trouble-magnets; if problems don't find you both, then, you people ended up digging up for one. Unlike you and grandpa, I like living my life in solitude and peace, and, most certainly, I don't want to mother you two forever. At the very least, stay out of troubles for me, your brother by blood; I do not want to see you and Grandpa Roma gets hurt for stupid reasons, alright?_

_Sincerely, Lovino."_

* * *

See you next week!


	3. Shading

**_Chapter 3_**:

Shading

* * *

October 1, 1939.

"_Precious Lovino, _

_I'm worried. In our neighborhood, there is a gigantic house on the hill up north, flooded in escapees, one night, German soldiers just came in and took everything away. Everybody had to keep their mouth shut or else they would be taken far away too, just like those people… On a lighthearted note, how are you and the family today? I am sorry if I scared you… Grandpa Roma had suggested that our home, here, should lay low for the time being, so, he took me to the beach with him. It was enjoyable and I had a good time with my girl friends, except, for the fact that the waterbed is occupied with passing German's black battleships and the open sky is bombarded with grey airplanes. I know I shouldn't be telling you this, but, I just wanted you to be careful since not everything is what it seems, even if it was against the odds. Ciao, big brother… oh, oh, and don't forget to say 'hi' to Antonio for me._

_With Much Love, Feliciano."_

.

A twin couple of brown eyes unwrapped themselves from last night's restless and lonesome hours. Lovino let out a breath as he slowly comes into rousing of today's morning. _Laughter_. He could hear the bell of laughter around his lighted background. The white, grey, and black canvas of his room in his eyes was crudely distressed by warm, sincere, heartfelt chuckles. A rainbow begins to dipped and dyed over his overcast, relaxed, and tranquil comforting, little room. Now, all of the messy, flamboyant colors have tainted and soiled over his spotless cubicle; his white space, his grey home, his colorless universe, he could distinguished this laughter belonged to none other except for his older step-brother, Antonio. Lovino sat up, unbinding his person out of his kindly blanket and spineless mattress, only to turn to have a stare at his brother. Antonio was reading a letter while muffling his own giggles and chuckles.

The step-brother tilted his head over and grinned doily, his smile feels like the sun is beaming on Lovino's face. "Good morning, Lovino. I am sorry if I woke you up."

The young Italian shook his head inaudibly. "No. It is around the time for me to wake up and get ready for school… What is so funny?"

Antonio's eyes softened at his statement, an earnest glow remained in his green pupils. The white letter in his hands makes several shifting noises as he speaks. "… Abel… you know, Able Mogens? The kid who used to pick fights with me all the time when I was in school? He lives in Amsterdam now. Recently, he meets and befriended this girl. It was a Jewish girl, a pretty one, her name is, Anne Frank; well, at least, I believed that's how her name was pronounced. He wanted to ask her to be his lover, but it turns out… she's only ten years old!" Antonio chuckled in a rich, golden tone. Lovino didn't know what is so funny, but nod his head nevertheless; only to be polite with an agreeable sound.

Antonio had thought that Lovino was interested, so he presses on his story with great enthusiasm, trying to bring back their life together with one another again, "…I remember back then, Maria Montessori's school in Rome, the Casa dei Bambini, it is where I first met you. I was eight years old, and you, you were just two. Mother just gave birth to your little brother, Feliciano. You were standing alone, my eyes tell me you were mourning, probably; in a dark corner because you thought that she will abandon you since '_Feliciano, Feliciano, Feliciano,_' is what all that comes out of her lips."

"Just so you know; I wasn't sulking." Lovino explained, a pink color flushed on his solemn facial expression.

Antonio smirks, knowingly and shrewdly, but still held back several words for the sake of his younger brother. "Of course, I am sorry; I tend to say things thoughtlessly."

He decided to change to a different topic. "… The kids there are interesting. I used to have a lot of friends in school. This loud kid name Gilbert and his quiet brother, Ludwig, transferring from Germany, and Francis 'the romantic', from France. Back then, ever since World War I ended, there were no conflicts, no hate, no suspicion. It was so great and exciting and fun to meet all of these difference people from all over the world… but then… for no reason, people begin to doubt, distrust begins to build, and then, another war started out of nowhere..." Antonio maundered off midway into his story; he had forgotten that he shouldn't be talking about conflicts and wars with Lovino. Lovino is still a young boy; he doesn't need to know more than what is in front of his eyes. "… Dear, look at the time, you are going to be late for school Lovino!"

"Oh, crap!" Lovino swore, breaking himself out of Antonio's story, and hassled himself off of the bed, only to quickly clothed his person into his trouser and dress shirt for school.

During breakfast with their parents, Lovino had stayed awkwardly quiet the entire time. It is as if he wanted to say something, but is too afraid to bring words out of his closed mouth. His body would shift left and right unnervingly, his brown eyes move back and forth anxiously, his feet tap up and down nervously. Antonio wanted to ask what is wrong, but, before he could come in interaction with his younger step-brother, Lovino's presence blurred into thin air. His book bag is gone, along with his bike in the garage and shoes in the front door. The Spanish man signed, tirelessly crushed, standing behind the closed door with a gloomy face.

School has been easy for Lovino. If Antonio is nowhere within sight, he could concentrate on his lessons and paper works, he could easily talked to another person without problems, he could simply takes out his white sketchbook and drew artistically away. Lovino's mind is, at easiness, once he had seen the whites, greys, and blacks under his own willpower. He could easily blend, balance, and controls the white movements, grey shadings, and black lines of his pencil against the white pages. He whirred in pleasure as he sees the landscape inside the page coming to life in precise and organized shapes and strokes.

When school ended for the day, Lovino had felt disappointed, distressed, dismayed, as his shield of freedom is torrent into ashes before his eyes. The road leading to the sunset horizon in front of his driving bike had, somehow, lessened their distance to his home. It had felt like he magically transport himself to his house in an instant as the yellows, oranges, and reds melts behind his back. Now that he is at the front door to his home, now that the bike is tucked neatly into the garage, now that familiar faces are within his reach again, Lovino panicked. All of the reasons, the cause and effects, the _'what if's'_ and _'but's'_, basically shattered from his mind as a gust of unstable emotions, of fluctuating feelings dripping their colors into his grey world. His heartbeat thundering inside his chest as he is, once again, face to face, eye to eye with his Spanish step-brother. Mother is preparing baked bread in the kitchen and father is enthusiastically bringing out the cooked dishes to fill out the empty table. Antonio had, firstly, wanted to help out, but he was turned down and thrown into a chair right across of Lovino by mother.

It was so awkward as the seconds passes by like wet water grinding against dry sand, their browns and greens eyes would uncomfortably tangled every now and then, their feet weirdly bumping into each other underneath the table, and hands brushed against one another as they make room for more dishes to come by father. The bread basket was the last item being place out as the family had finally finish filling out their table. Lovino pretend to engrossed himself in the beef stew but was interrupted by his step-father in just a few quiet moments passed.

"Is there anything you wanted once you have graduated from school, Lovino?" He asked, smiling so wide and innocence at his step-son.

The mother put down her spoon and looked dumbfounded by the question, "… Is it close to school's year ending for you, all ready, Lovino? Lord, I am so sorry that I haven't thought of it. You are always a young child to me… But, please, is there anything you wanted? A car? A pet? Money?"

Lovino gulped down the watery beef chunks in his mouth, glance down to his lap, and face up again, declaring softly, but definitely, "When I graduate from school, I wanted to come back to Rome to live with Feliciano and Grandpa Roma." The words coming out of Lovino's lips were so artless, so colorless, so formless. As he was saying what is on his mind, he had avoided eyes with Antonio. Lovino's face had remained so monochrome, so monotonous, so monomorphic, the entire time his lips were moving. And yet, yet, those pallid words, they had startled his older step-brother more than anybody else in the room. Mother and father couldn't have noticed the shift in his behavior, but, Lovino; since he is the only one who is closest to Antonio, he could see the change in his character. All of the bright, brilliant colors on Antonio's face have drained to grey, to alabaster, to snow white. His red lips bleached in mahogany, his emerald eyes to moss green, his golden brunette hair to rust ginger.

After dinner ended, mother and father went to their separate room together, leaving Lovino and Antonio to their own room. When the door closes in on both brothers' shadow, Antonio had shrove himself into his young step-brother's warmth, and force himself onto his gasped, parts lips.

"Antonio…!" Lovino hissed through his teeth, shoving his step-brother body away. "What are you doing?!" He had tried to be as quiet as possible. He freaked out and looked around timidly, only to realize that nobody's here in this room but himself and Antonio.

"Yes. What am I doing?" Antonio questioned with a blank look as he forcefully grip Lovino's chin up to push his darkened lips onto his again.

"… Stop, I begged you." Lovino opened his lips to plead his elder step-brother to end what he is doing to him, his brother. "… Pleas-" Lovino was cut off as Antonio's red mouth deepened on him, he could feel his heartbeat entering him through their attached lips, he could feel his heated skin behind his clothes, he could feel his emerald orbs on him through the darkness. _This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong._

There was a knock on the door. "… Antonio? Lovino? Is everything's alright?" Mother enquired apprehensively.

Antonio confiscates himself away from Lovino's lips, eyes, and body. Takes in a long inhale of the tense air and opened the door with a pleasant smile painted on his lips. "Yes, mother, I just tripped myself, no need to worry."

"Oh, Antonio, you are such a silly boy despite your age. Just be careful of your own footsteps." The mother warned with a soft voice, careful to not wake her husband.

"Alright, thank you, mother." The son admitted warmly. "You should rest for the night."

"Sure thing, just don't stay up too late, young man," The mother reminded him. Sure, Antonio and Lovino are old now, but they are still always children in her eyes.

"Ha, that will only make me wanted to defile your words, Mrs. Carriedo." He teased justly, winking at her.

She rolled her eyes and patted her eldest son's shoulder. "I love you too, dear."

After the door has concealed the two brother's existence once more, Antonio's mood has instantly changes as soon as he comes face to face back to his young brother. His emerald eyes shown frustration, anger, irritation at Lovino. Just like a cat and a mouse.

Lovino didn't like the way his brother look at him, so he whispers, taciturnly, "… These kisses, they are for lovers, not brothers."

Antonio, sarcastically, mockingly, coldly told him, "They're just kisses for families, for loved ones, Lovino, you worried yourself about the littlest things too much." His tone was sweet as sugar against spice.

"No." Lovino stand still and tall, eyes clashing with his step-brother, insubordination and boldness in his brown orbs, "You're lying. The way that you had touched me, the way that you looked at me, the way that you had spoken to me… You… We should stop. _Right now_. Because I don't want to ruin what our family, what my mother's has, what _we _have as brothers, right now, this moment, this instant."

Antonio's eyes was infected by the darkness around them, Lovino could feel him almost growling under his breath, huskily, "What do you want me to tell you, Lovino? More importantly, what do, _you_, sought to hear? Haven't I shamed myself enough for you?"

Lovino bites his lips, he had felt scared for a brief moment there, it was like he was a small rodent under a snake's binding body. "Antonio. Calm down. Your mind is merely misguidance, misunderstood, misjudge, since I am the only person you came in contact with regularly. This is the perfect time for you to see others without me in the way. It may be not right away, not now, at least, but, someday, one day, you will find someone. That special person who you are willing to scarified everything for. At this moment, we are simply children, little kids, in a play, pretending to act with one another." Once Lovino had finish his sentences, the words from him felt like they are, indeed, in a story, scripted, fake, and emotionless.

"I am sorry… It is nothing of significance, as you have said it yourself; you are leaving in just a few months from now anyway. My words do not matter. My actions do not matter. My feelings do not matter. "Antonio had looked beaten, crinkled, fatigued. His red lips dreadfully pale, green eyes pitched black, and golden auburn hair merges in with the dark setting around him. His whole body was faded bleach; it was as if he was a wandering ghost himself. Antonio had stay exceptionally quiet, in dead silence, even when he dresses himself into his sleep attires for the night.

"Feliciano told me to say, 'hi,' to you, Antonio." Lovino begin to change the mood and the subject inelegantly, he still wanted things peaceful, like what they used to be with each other, like the past. He tried to smile so, too. He was glad as his heavy trouser and thick dress shirt comes off of his tired body, and, then, into the silk robe he does. The soft material against his skin feels so nice, as always. _Finally, some sleep_. No more talking. No more acting. No more pretending.

"… Oh… Tell him, I said hello." Antonio brushed off quietly, not making eye contact with Lovino. He settled himself onto his bed without a sound, his back against his younger step-brother.

Lovino signed. His eyes no longer have the capacity to be held so wide open since he is restive for the passing days that Antonio had been home. Sleep somehow comes to him, earlier than what he had expected. He looks out to the window. There were no stars and moon to be seen behind the black transparent glass as the opening creak of his eyes are being whitewashed by the darkness. After a few hours of sleep, he'll reply to Feliciano's letter.

.

October 2, 1939.

"_Dear Feliciano,_

_What kind of person do you think I am? I'm more worried for you and Grandpa Roma, dummy… I'm glad that you two are safe, too… Here, in Madrid, not so much like Rome, the newscast had it that the government is 'in negotiation' with Germany. Something about us being neutral since we just got out of a civil war ourselves; and, that is all that I know since I wasn't paying much attention to the radio lately. And, also, Antonio says, 'hello,' back to you. I am tired tonight, nothing's worth of mentioning for today, so I'll just ended things here._

_Sincerely, Lovino."_

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: Hi friends! I hope you enjoy this story up until now. I had wanted to try a different style of writing, which is, to use the words in a way that you would find in an artist's paint pallet. I hoped that nobody's got too confuse so far. :)


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